Fire
by bonesfan05
Summary: Booth's apartment is destoyed by fire and Brennan takes him in. Not meant to be a tear jerker, just funny. Can a man and a woman who once used to be attracted to each other live together without crossing any lines?
1. Chapter 1

_Fire engines and ambulances poured from their respective houses in the early hours Saturday morning. An apartment building had been set ablaze shortly before sunup… _

Booth sat on the sidewalk outsider his apartment building; watching as his home for the past eleven years went up in an orange and red inferno. The heat coming off the structure was intense and he could feel sweat pouring off his body and running down his back. The sleep clothes and the shoes he wore were the only things he had come out with, well…and his life.

He surveyed the streets next to him as tenants and neighbors searched for ambulance workers to tend to their loved ones. He was unhurt, possibly a bruise or two, but he felt very battered.

Realizing there was nothing left to do after the building was cleared and the fireman worked on the blaze he wondered into the nearby diner he frequented often and asked to use the phone. His fingers took over when his brain felt like it had cooked right in his skull.

She answered straight away, confused by the unknown number. "Hello?" Not wanting to give her professional title as it might be a perverted weirdo looking for a good time.

"Bones, hey, it's me."

"Booth? Where are you?"

"Fred's."

"Who? Who is Fred?" She sounded panicked.

"The deli around the corner from my apartment." _What used to be my apartment._

"What time is it? Did you call me for breakfast?" She paused. "The sun isn't even up yet."

"You were awake though," he teased out of habit.

"Of course I was. I was performing yoga."

_Of course she was. His home is a bucket of ashes and a ceramic ashtray Parker made in the first grade and she's deep breathing and tightening her gluets. _

She interrupted his thoughts. "Booth are you alright?"

"Well as it turns out no," he answered. "My…uh…"

"Booth where are you, besides Fred's? I can hear a tire truck. Is something on fire?"

"Yeah Bones, my apartment."

"Oh my gosh! Booth are you alright? Was anyone hurt?" He could hear her stumbling in her apartment and cursing shoes with strings. "Did you make it out okay?"

"Obviously Bones," he chuckled dryly. "I'm fine. I just….I feel a little lost."

"Of course. Stay where you are. I'm on my way. And since you're at Fred's eat something. You get nauseous when you get upset so preferably something with a high carbohydrate count; pancakes or waffles. I'll be there in ten minutes." She hung up the phone without a goodbye.

"She coming to get you?" Tom asked. No one knew why the deli was named Fred's since the owner's name was Tom Richfield, a long time friend of Booth's.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "She said I should eat something."

"Good idea," Tom said brightly. "Everything looks better after a short stack."

"I sure hope so."

.

.

As early as it was and the commotion from the fire not four blocks over, Fred's was empty except for Booth when Brennan arrived ten minutes later. She dropped into the booth with him just as he was digging into his first stack of pancakes.

"What happened?" she asked passing him a much needed napkin.

"I don't know," he confessed dabbing his chin. "I woke up on the couch to the smoke alarms."

She helped herself to his tall cup of coffee and pondered what her partner told her.

"Why were you on the couch?" she finally asked.

The woman really was all over the map sometimes. "Bones, my home is burning-as we speak-and you ask me about my sleeping arraignments?"

"It just seemed odd to me," she explained.

"I had one too many," he said stuffing his mouth. "I knew we weren't working tomorrow so I put down a six pack and half a pizza then passed out on my couch. The next thing I knew I was running out."

Brennan's face softened as she offered her up turned hand. "Booth I'm so sorry." He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze in reply before he went back to his breakfast.

"So what now?" she asked him.

"Well," he sighed," I finish this. Although you're going to have to pay for it seeing as my wallet is now under several tons of rubble. Then I guess-"

"You'll come home with me," she said with finality.

"Huh?"

The warmth of his coffee cup around her fingers gave her the confidence she found she needed. "Obviously you can't stay here, and you just said your wallet being under several tons of rubble…you can come home with me."

"Wow Bones…thank you. I haven't gotten than far yet. I guess I will need a place to stay. Are you sure?"

"Of course," she assured her. "Now with your relationship with Hannah over, in the same situation, you would open your home to me."

That stung but he tried to brush it off knowing full well she was right. "Bones, I…"

"Booth it isn't important. Finish your breakfast."

He watched her take another long drink from his coffee cup. His Hannah cooties had obviously somewhat worn off.

"Would you like me to order you something to drink?" he asked.

"No, this is fine," she replied, smirk firmly planted on her pale lips.

.

.

The smoke had subsided and the most of the occupants of Booth's apartment building had all gone; either the hospital or family members he hoped. Some lingering fireman watched for any flare-ups as police talked to reporters and kept looters at bay.

"The fire must have spread very quickly," Brennan observed. Her pink athletic flip-flops did nothing from keeping her feet from getting dirty with soot and ash. The heat from the fire kept them back a good clip but they could make out people's furniture, dining tables, children's bunk beds and family portraits along the sidewalk and roadway.

"Jesus," Booth hissed as he came upon what once was a Little Tikes race car bed. The blue plastic had melted into the concrete and was now barely recognizable.

"What the hell started it?" he asked himself looking up along the now visible sky line.

"Could be a number of things," Brennan answered moving some debris with her foot. "I'm sure the fire marshal will do a thorough investigation." She stood next to him with her hands on her hips surveying the view. "Booth this will be a total loss."

"I know," he sighed. "My comic books."

"Graphic novels," she corrected instantly. "Did you take anything with you as you left?"

"My pants," he laughed ironically.

"What?" she asked puzzled.

"My pants. I…didn't have any on. I was watching TV and fell asleep."

"…I see…"

He zeroed in on her assumption. "I wasn't doing _that_. I was in my own home. And even if I was doing what you think I was doing, which I wasn't, it is perfectly within my rights."

"Yes Booth, you're correct. You can do whatever you want in your own home. In my home however, I would prefer you change the sheets when you're finished."

"Can we just drop this conversation?" Standing in front of a burned down apartment complex didn't seem like the appropriate time to discuss his personal masturbation habits.

"Good grief." He ran his hands over his hair and face. "I'm going to have to start over completely. I don't even have a change of clothes or my keys." He looked in the direction of the parking lot. "Shit!"

She turned to look with him. "What?"

"My car. I don't have my keys. Cullen is going to be so pissed. And my gun and my badge." He looked down on himself. "Jesus I feel naked."

"Even though this isn't the most opportune time to mention it, this is an incredibly good example of why I should have a gun," she pointed out.

"Well the next time my _home burns down_ I'll make sure all the paperwork is in order."

"There's no need to be snippy."

"My house is gone! I think this is a great time to be snippy. You were downward facing dog and deep breathing while I was running to keep my ass from catching fire!" He took in several deep breaths, which incidentally were still pretty laden with smoke, to try and regain his composure.

Brennan took his shoulders and pushed him back upright. "Booth, calm down. I know this is a very stressful time but you are alive and not harmed so that's a major plus. All those things you lost can be replaced. I know very well material items are just that. We'll buy you all new things and since it will be my money, better things."

"Thanks," he replied sarcastically and pulled away from her.

"I'm sorry," she laughed. He had started walking and she jogged to catch up with him. "Booth I'm sorry, I was just trying to ease the tension. I don't know what I would do I were in your situation."

"I'm sure you would be balling over some penis stature or fertility whatchmahicky."

"Why are all our conversations about penises?" she asked.

He paused long enough for her to stop in front of him. "I don't know." He looked around. "Where did you park?"

"I took a cab."

"Why?"

"I loaned my father my car."

"You did? When?"

"Two months."

"Two months! And he hasn't brought it back? What the hell Bones?"

"I don't know and don't yell at me! He said he needed it to move."

"Move? Bones he lives out of a shoe box and eats drive thru, how could he possibly need it to move?"

"I didn't ask," she admitted sheepishly.

"Fine," he sighed. "You didn't know better. I'll…call him or something and get your car back."

"What if he did something illegal with it?"

"I'm positive he did something illegal with it but that's not the point. Do you have anymore cash on you?"

"Uh…" she dug in her pockets. "Six dollars."

"Bones…why are you…what the…just come on, we'll walk back. It's only-"

"-23 blocks," she answered.

"Right. Twenty three blocks. The exercise will do me good."

"Exercise is very good for you," she agreed keeping his pace.

.

.

Brennan shut her front door and kicked her sandals off her feet with a heavy sigh. "I must admit, sandals were not the most appropriate footwear decision I've ever made."

"I second that," Booth said going for the water faucet. He got a couple glasses full before he leaned over the sink and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths.

"What can I do for you Booth?" she asked gently running a hand down his back. The cotton was dark from smoke and wet from sweat. If she were honest, he stunk.

"A shower perhaps?" she offered politely.

"Yeah Bones I can smell me too," he chuckled dryly.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I'm sure I smell as well."

He turned swiftly so he could lean back on the sink and cross his arms. "You always smell good Bones."

"That's not possible. We've been to some very foul crime scenes."

"I didn't say you always smelt clean, I said you always smelled good." He pulled his shirt away from his skin to inspect it. "I guess I could use a shower. You wouldn't possibly have any of my clothes here would you?"

She started back towards her bedroom. "Anything I had of yours I threw out a long time ago."

"Ouch," he winced. "I guess I had that coming."

He stopped at her bedroom threshold waiting for her to return.

"Here." She placed some clothes into his hands.

"Whose are these?" he asked looking at the very male clothing.

"Sully's."

"You threw my stuff out but you kept his?" he questioned. To him that seemed a little ass backwards.

"He betrayed me to my face," she replied honestly.

Booth's shoulders dropped in frustration. "Would you rather I go? Am I that shitty of a person that you would rather me be somewhere else?"

"Of course not! I told you, you could stay here, but that doesn't mean I'm going to lie about certain things. You asked if I had your clothes, I did; now I do not. If you choose to wear these, who used to belong to another man, than so be it. If you choose not to that is your business but you are not sitting on my furniture until you rid yourself of the clothing you are currently wearing."

"Fine. I'll wear these. But I will buy new ones." He took off toward the spare bathroom. "I don't have to be happy about it!"

"Fine!" she shouted as the bathroom door slammed.

"Fine!" he shouted behind the door.

…

_So that's the start…what do you think? I only watched a few episodes this season (the rest are still on my DVR) but I think there would be a lot of hostility towards Booth that Brennan might have. Women are all the same deep down. Things will improve of course and we will soon see fluff and all the other good stuff. Feel free to drop me a line. __J_


	2. Chapter 2

Booth looked at the small pile of clothes laying on the cold tile floor of his partner's spare bathroom. He wasn't prepared for the onslaught of emotions he felt in seeing the only pieces of clothing - of anything - he now owned. He could effectively put his life in a Wal-Mart sack. She had been mostly right, all the suites, ties, stripy socks and 'cocky' belt buckles could be replaced. It wasn't that. It was the memories those items held.

Before, her 'for company' bathroom was just that; a home away from home. Two years ago, before everything turned to shit he supposed and all his belongings went into the garbage, he had kept a spare toothbrush there, a shave kit, even extra socks. Now it felt a little more sterile; generic. All the brands where mirror images of everything she kept for her own personal use down to the triple ply toilet paper. But the towels were soft and the water warm and he remembered this wasn't an un-named hotel, this was Bones' place and she did want him here.

He found her in the kitchen later redressed in a pair of linen pants and tee. He almost hated it when she dressed down. The clothes fit her better than any thousand dollar gown ever thought of doing.

"Hey," she greeted him as he approached. "Feeling a bit better?"

"Yeah I suppose," he replied. He pulled open the refridgerator door and eyed the carton of orange juice sitting on the top shelf. "Mind if I get a drink?"

"Of course not. Help yourself."

"Thanks." He poured himself a healthy glass as he offered her one then put it back and joined her at the bar.

"What's all this?" he asked looking over her shoulder.

"I wasn't sure what kind of help you wanted," she told him. "But I felt the need to offer something-"

"-Bones you opened your home, that's enough," he assured her.

"Besides that." She slid a list in front of him. "A rundown of all the people you're going to need to contact. Insurance agencies - you possessed renter's insurance?"

"Of course."

"Right. Well, insurance agencies, credit card companies, your bank, etc." She hung her hands cutely. "I wasn't sure if you would remember all of them."

"No, thanks." He scanned the list. Some of them he wouldn't have remembered. The credit cards were a given but his life insurance, he hadn't given it a second thought.

"You'll need copies to have for your records," he explained seeing where his eyes were lingering. "Bank statements, policies, tax forms."

"Fuck," he sighed under his breath. "Sorry Bones," he quickly apologized for his harsh language.

"No I think that definitely describes it," she laughed softly. "But none of that has to be done now, well except for the credit cards. Someone might find them and try to use them. None of the rest of the businesses will be open on a Saturday."

"Right," he sighed again. "There's only three, including my debit card. Visa's." He took the handset on the counter and dialed the number on the top of the yellow legal pad written in her neat hand writing. "Where'd you get these numbers?" he asked listening to the ring then the automated system come on.

"The backs of my own cards. I knew you had a Visa card and we bank at the same location, plus you don't want to keep a lot of open credit in case for felt the overwhelming need to…"

"Gamble," he filled in. She nodded slightly diverting her eyes to the tiled countertop. He hated that she knew him so damn well.

.

.

Three cancelled cards later Booth was exhausted. The shower and, as Brennan pointed out, the adrenalin of the morning had finally wore off he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Booth, there's nothing pressing that needs done now." She refilled his orange juice as she helped herself to a yogurt in the fridge. "You should try and get some rest."

"Yeah I know. I don't know if I can sleep though," he admitted. "It's when I close my eyes and try to relax my mind I hear the alarms again and smell the smoke. Then I start to think about if I hadn't made it."

She nodded in understanding. Scooping some soft pink yogurt into her mouth she swallowed before speaking. "But you did make it, that is what's important."

"Yes. Thank God for that." He waited for her to say something more along the lines of thank evolution for the ability to walk upright and get his ass down the stairs but it never came. She only dropped her cup into the trash then went to her bedroom coming back a minute later with a prescription bottle in her hand.

"Normally I wouldn't do this," she explained opening up the bottle and dropping a small, round pill in her hand. "It's to help you sleep."

"What is it?" he asked examining it when she placed it in his open palm.

"Ambien."

"Where did you get them?"

"The pharmacy but I'm assuming your question was meant to be who prescribed them?"

"Sure. Yeah." He turned the pill over in his hand.

"Sweets."

He looked at her. "Sweets wrote you a script for Ambien? Why?"

"I have occasional insomnia. It stems from a lot of things, mostly nightmares, but that's not the point. The point is I'm certain this one time sharing my medicine with you will not bring you harm." She watched him study the pill in his hand thoughtfully. "You don't want to take it?"

"No it's not that. Why didn't you tell me you were still having nightmares?"

She slumped her shoulders as she sighed. "Booth it is not a big deal. And besides, I haven't had one in a long time."

"Well that can't be entirely true because the bottle has a lot in it so the script has to be fairly new. So you're either having nightmares or you aren't, which is it?"

She slid his juice glass in front of him with more force than necessary. "Will you just take the damn pill?"

"Why won't you just tell me," he insisted.

"No. I'm not having nightmares. There. Now take the pill and go lie down."

"I'll take it when you tell me why you went to Sweets in the first place. It must have been bad enough for you to worry if you went to him instead of your normal doctor. And I know him well enough he wouldn't give them to you unless he really thought you needed them. Believe me, I know he doesn't just sign his name to anything."

"You asked him to write you a prescription for something?"

"What? No. That's not the point I'm just saying he doesn't just whip out the ol' prescription pad for nothing. Is there something wrong with you?" He heard how it sounded as the words left his mouth. "And I mean that in the nicest way possible."

"There are plenty of things wrong with me," she answered sarcastically.

"Will you just answer me?"

She stood firm. "Did you ask him to write you a prescription for Viagra?"

"What? Are you nuts?" He stood up from the counter and took his glass to the sink. "Where the hell did you come up with that?"

"Statistically speaking, Viagra is the number one drug for men your age. Are you suffering from erectile dysfuntion?"

_Again with the penises. _

"Men my _age_? Just how old do you think I am?" he nearly shouted from across the kitchen. He definitely needed some space for this conversation. "I did not ask Sweets for anything, okay? Let's just drop it." He tossed the Ambien in his mouth and dry swallowed it. "See I took it." He yawned widely. "I think I am tired, I'll go lay down now." He quickly walked past her and down the hall.

"Booth if you think you need-"

"-Night Bones!" He effectively cut off the conversation with the bedroom door.

.

.

"I guess I'm confused," she told Angela. "Smell these." She held out some strawberries from her.

Angela inhaled them closing her eyes to the sweet fresh smell of the fruit in front of her. "Hmm, yummy. Grab me some too." She took the small basket from her friend and put them in her bag. "What are you confused about? It's obvious he can't raise the flag pole." She sighed sadly," which really is very depressing. Do you think it's always been like that?"

"I know for a fact it hasn't," Brennan confirmed moving down to the next vendor. The farmer's market wasn't crowded yet and the women had choice of the vast variety of fresh fruits, vegetables and flowers in front of them. "Maybe something happened in the desert."

"Or Hannah made it receed," Angela offered.

"Angela be nice," Brennan chastised with a feminine giggle. "You think?"

"Who knows," she shrugged. "So how's he doing?"

"When I left he was snoring loud enough to break glass." She dropped several large lemons into a plastic sack then onto a scale. "He's upset which is to be suspected."

"Oh course he is Bren, his home burned down," Angela pointed out. "I'd be devastated. He's lost everything. I got these." She handed the vendor the money for their purchases. "He's going to have to start over from scratch. Think about that for a second. Not just buying new shoes, but _everything._ Shoes, socks, shampoo, silverware, potholders, razors, moth balls. It's exhausting just thinking about it. Not to mention that fact that we are very fortunate Bren that if something like that were to happen to us we'd just go and replace everything. Does Booth have that ability? I know he makes good money but he did just buy an engagement ring plus he pays child support. Can he afford to start over?" She stopped and looked back when she noticed Brennan wasn't beside her anymore. "What's wrong sweetie?"

"Those things didn't occur to me. I feel I've behaved like such a bitch."

"Well I wouldn't go that far Bren," Angela soothed with a gentle shoulder squeeze.

"Seriously Angela, I showed up after he called me and I made fun of his things. I said I would buy him new stuff, better stuff. I basically told him that it didn't matter because they were just material items. I feel horrible."

Angela frowned. "I'm sure Booth didn't take it that way."

"Yes he did."

"Oh…well I'm sure he forgives you."

"That makes me feel worse," she admitted. "I didn't even think about him not being able to replace everything all at once. I told him I would give him the money…I didn't even think about him paying me back."

"Booth isn't like that sweetie. You know he hates debt of any kind."

"I know. I've been very foolish. I've been so consumed by my anger and fear that I forgot that this must be very hard for him." She gathered all her bags together quickly. "Angela I hate to leave after I promised the afternoon but I feel I need to go back and make things right with him."

"Of course sweetie, go." She gave her friend a quick hug. "But wait, didn't you give him something to sleep?"

"Yes," Brennan called back over her shoulder as she hurried to her car. "But I have a couple stops to make first!"

"Bye then!" Angela waved as Brennan drove away. "Good luck!"

.

Brennan made three stops in all before she got back to her apartment. She had to make two trips with all her bags but she felt confident she had made the right decision when she began unloading her purchases on the kitchen counters.

.

Booth lay awake for along time listening to the sounds of the apartment around him. He could hear neighbors above and below him going about their days; their lives. Irrationally, it made him angry. He felt anger that they had Tvs to watch, food to prepare, laundry to fold and air conditioning to control. He felt anger that these people hadn't stopped their lives because that's what had happened to his. His life had stopped in a spark of a fire. But he knew these feelings would pass and he would have to adjust to fact he was starting over, yet again. He started over when Bones rejected him. He started over with Hannah. He started over _without _Hannah. And now he was just plain starting over.

He padded softly down the hall and into the living room where his partner was sorting laundry out on the couch and coffee table.

_Couldn't she do that somewhere else?_

"Hey," he greeted her in passing to the kitchen. He needed something loaded with sugar.

"Hi," she replied leaving her pile and joining him in the kitchen. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, surprisingly. I'm gonna have to get me some of that Ambien." He opened up another cabinet. "Don't you have anything in here with no nutritional value?"

"Sorry, no."

"Figures," he huffed shutting the cabinet and going to the fridge. "What have you been doing?" He spotted a root beer in the back. Damn. Diet.

"Bones I have got to teach you about junk food. There's nothing in here even capable of getting fat on." He compromised on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. She watched him smear a thick line of peanut butter on both slices of bread then cut the banana into chunks then push it into the bread.

"Want a bite?" he offered before digging in.

"No thank you," she said quickly with a head shake. "I was thinking maybe we could go to the supermarket later and purchase some groceries. I know food is an important part of feeling at home. I want you to have that."

"Agreed," he said with his mouth full. "This place needs some Oreos."

"Angela prefers the Double Stuf."

"Definitely."

His eyes finally able to see anything other than sustenance he noticed the entire men's line from Wal-greens lining her countertops.

"What's," swallow," all this?"

"Well," she passed her hand over the items," I thought you might want some of these items seeing as yours are gone."

"You think I use that much stuff?"

He could have swore he saw her blush before she spoke. "I wasn't sure what scent you wanted." He tilted his head to the side slightly and she continued. "Pre and post Hannah that is. Less…cologney, although that's not a word."

He shouldn't have been surprised she noticed things like that. "I guess it really doesn't matter Bones. Whatever is fine."

"Well I liked this one." She slid a silver and blue plastic bottle in front of him for inspection. "But you should choose whatever you want. I also purchased several razors, reasoning Hannah wouldn't have a problem with razor selection." She held one up. "Are you aware this vibrates?"

He chuckled at her obvious giddiness in choosing his razor selection. "No Bones, I didn't know that."

"Also I purchased deoderant, shampoo - I know how you get itchy scalp - toothpaste with a bubble gum flavor, do you know how hard it is to find that? Hair gel, q-tips with the cotton stick and not the plastic, after shave and mouth wash. Did I forget anything?"

"Bones there's like," he quickly counted and calculated," two hundred dollars worth of crap here. I don't need all this, I won't use it all in a lifetime. You should have just gotten whatever was cheapest."

"No," she said crinkling her nose. "The cheap stuff is just that, cheap and it's nothing but water and dyes. Look at this." She opened a can of shave cream. "It comes out a gel but when you rub it between your fingers it's a foam."

"It's a miracle," he told her with a heavy eye roll.

Her face fell and she put distance between the two of them. He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings but all of this was a little overwhelming.

"I'm sorry Bones," he said rubbing his hands over his face and hair. "I shouldn't be like this. Thank you, really, for going and getting this stuff. It's just hard to believe I have to buy _all this_ over again. And I know you are just trying to help me. It's going to take me time to adjust to the new setting and the fact I'm homeless and without anything."

"But you aren't homeless," she corrected quietly.

"Sure I am Bones. It burned down."

"No I mean this can be your home. Here. I know it doesn't feel like that now but I'm willing to do whatever you need to make it feel that way."

Her generosity overwhelmed him. Obviously she was still hurting, but so was he. Maybe together they could heal. Maybe together, this time, things could be different for them.

"Thank you," he told her.

"You're welcome," she replied shyly.

"Show me that miracle foam again."


	3. Chapter 3

"We'll need to make a stop first," she told him as they settled into the cab. She tapped on the plexi-glass partition in front of them and told the driver an address.

"Where is that?" Booth asked her.

"Storage," she replied.

"I didn't know you kept stuff in storage."

"Correction. I keep one thing in storage. You'll be proud I promise."

"Unless it's a pop-up apartment completely furnished I doubt it."

She smiled at him innocently. "Don't you trust me Booth?"

.

"I can't find it," she cursed again under her breath. "These buildings are obviously numbered wrong."

"Bones you have a storage space and you don't even know how to get there?" He yanked the key ring from her hand. "Sixty three. It can't be that hard to find." He led the way between the buildings until he came to building six.

"Now we just go to one, two…what the hell?" He looked at the door marked 76.

"I told you they were marked wrong," she scoffed taking the key back. "If I remember correctly it should be over one more. Come on." She waved her hand over her shoulder for him to follow.

"What's in this building anyway Bones? It better be something good because I'm not really in the mood to go on a treasure hurt for some Himalayan walking/totem/sacrificial/worshipping thing."

"See! I found it." She clapped her hands in front of her. "And there aren't any anthropological or archeological artifacts in this storage unit Booth." She gave him a heavy eye roll. "It isn't even climate controlled."

"Oh well, excuse me."

She stuck the padlock into her purse and pulled the handle for the door to slide up.

"Would you mind giving me a hand? I forgot how heavy this door is." She strained under the large metal weight as he pushed up with her.

"Your Mercedes? This is what you keep in storage?"

"Why not? I only have one parking spot at my building. I thought this was suitable."

"I thought you lent this to your dad?" he asked opening the driver's door and sliding behind the wheel.

"I told you I lent him my car; my Prius. I rarely drive this. Besides that," she follow suit and got into the passenger seat," who said you could drive?"

"I always drive," he said confidently taking the keys from her loose grip. He started it up and purred deep in his throat. "Why you drive that matchbox on wheels and not this I'll never know." He put the car in reverse and slowly backed from the space.

"My Prius is environmentally responsible Booth. This is just…" she searched for a word.

"Cool," Booth said smoothly as they pulled away.

.

"Here's what I was thinking Bones." He pulled into a parking space at the back end of the supermarket's lot.

"Why are we parked so far away?" she asked looking around at the nonexistent cars around them.

"Door dings," he answered obviously. "Now here's what I was thinking."

"Booth this is ridiculous. Park closer. We'll have to walk the cart three blocks to put it away. Look, there's a spot at the front." She shooed him with her hand to put the car in gear.

"No," he said firmly. "We're parking here and we'll be just fine. And who cares about the cart? We'll just leave it here."

She looked at him like that never occurred to her before.

"I know, I live dangerously," he shook his head sarcastically. "I also rip the tags off my mattresses."

"Fine," she relented. "What were you thinking?" She put her purse over her shoulder as they started walking toward the front door.

"I want to split everything with you," he told her helping himself to a cart from the front door.

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Split. As in the bills," he clarified. "If I'm going to be staying with you I want to pitch in."

"I guess that sounds okay." She stopped first at the produce and felt several tomatoes deciding on the two best ones to purchase.

"You know I grew my own tomatoes last year?" she asked cheerfully.

"I know. Your place smelt like a manure factory for three months."

"There is not such thing." She placed the bagged tomatoes in the cart. "So how much - did it smell that bad?" She questioned him with a small frown on her face.

"Boy you're quick on the draw," he laughed. "It's fine. Grab a head of that lettuce." He pointed to the wrapped heads on front of her.

"It has no color," she told him.

"That's why it's called lettuce and not coloruce. I like it to make sandwiches." He put the head she handed him into the cart.

"Have you tried spinach? It's much healthier. Plus I think the taste is much better."

"I like head lettuce Bones. If you don't like it then don't eat it." He moved down the line toward the fruit.

"Don't worry, I won't."

"Good." He placed grapes, three oranges and a bag of apples in the cart.

"Good," she repeated having to have the last word.

They made it through aisles four through ten without much incident, other than the argument over cereal preference. _Bones, no one can eat that much bran and live to tell about it…Well no one can eat this cereal without going into diabetic shock…_

They checked out without incident and per Brennan's suggestion, they took their groceries home and had a late lunch before going to the mall to restock Booth's wardrobe. He would have balked at going to the mall on a Saturday afternoon, the thought of all those teenage girls making his skull ache, but seeing as he was down to his last pair of dirty underwear he just smiled and nodded his head.

"I'm feeling one of my famous grilled cheese sandwiches Bones," he told her hunting a skillet. "Want me to whip you one up as well?" He found the large, deep skillet he was looking for and went to the fridge and began pulling out the necessary ingredients.

"That sounds fine Booth," he answered thumbing through the mail. "Do you need some help?"

"Grilled cheese is just one of the many, many things I am highly skilled at Bones. You just sit and watch the magic happen." He patted the bar with his spatula before he got started smearing the butter and unwrapping the cheese.

"I don't know about magic but I do find the idea of you cooking for me quite enticing." She began flipping through a magazine as he whistled about her kitchen.

He snapped his fingers remembering something before he put the two halves of bread together. "Can't forget the secret ingredient." He went to the fridge again and scanned the condiments in the door.

"Fourth row down Booth," Brennan said not looking up.

"How do you know what I'm looking for?"

"Your secret ingredient? It's mustard. Fourth row down. I prefer French's."

He pouted his lip out at her knowing such a coveted Booth family secret. "Who told you our secret ingredient was mustard?"

"Uh…" She stuck her nose back in the magazine.

"I should have given him the keys to my car. It would've hurt less." He went back to his food on the stove.

"Parker didn't mean any harm Booth," she chuckled. "We were swapping secrets. He couldn't think of anything else he hadn't told me."

He turned back from the stove to look at her. "You and Parker swap secrets?"

"Uh huh."

"What kind of secrets?" He couldn't keep it out and she couldn't help but notice the bit of hurt in his voice.

"Booth they're completely harmless. Who cheated on a spelling test, how he always eats his desert first in his lunch, the best ways to annoy his mother, who he has a crush on. I'm sure they are things you already know. It's a safe environment for Parker to express his worries and concerns."

"What does he have to be worried or concerned about, he's only eleven. "

"Well, without breaking any of his confidences, things like what desert confections girls most prefer, the best ways to get stains out of carpet, how much flowers cost when you can't get stains out of the carpet…"

"I'm assuming you gave him something dishy in return?" He went back to his sandwiches.

"Of course."

"Such as…" he prodded.

"Oh the same," she replied nonchalantly.

"You have a crush on someone?" He was glad his back was to her so he couldn't see the huge grin on his face.

"No one _you _know," she grinned coyly as he sat a hot sandwich in front of her.

"Too bad."

Three grilled cheese sandwiches, half a can of Pringles, two dill pickle spears and a handful of grapes later they were back in the car and headed to the mall for what Angela referred as shopped till they dropped…or Hodgins shut off the cards.

Booth groaned as they entered one of what he assumed would be the first of many department stores. The place was crowded.

"The men's department is upstairs, "Brennan told him pointing the escalator.

"Maybe it will be less crowded," he replied sneaking past a woman trying to shop with three small children.

Brennan took her place on the moving stairs. "I think we should devise a plan."

"A plan for what?"

"Shopping. Since we have a lot to purchase it would be best of we devised a plan so we didn't waste time."

He shrugged. "Sure. Whatever I guess."

"Do you prefer head to toe or toe to head?" she asked stepping off and directing them towards the men's department.

He paused for a split second then retook his steps. "As in…?"

"To shop. We could start at the head and dress down. Shirts, pants, socks, shoes or vice versa. Whichever you prefer."

"Oh uh…I guess head to toe." He'd never put that much thought into shopping before. He'd also never had to replace everything he owned before either.

"Good." She weaved her way through the stands of shirts. "Where would you like to start?"

"I don't know Bones. Maybe we should do this another day," he sighed. That headache he had thought of earlier began to pulsate in the back of his head.

"Booth we can't. You don't have anymore clothes." She gave his arm a soft squeeze. "I understand this is overwhelming. How about we start with just a couple shirts?"

"Ok," he agreed.

She picked up a muted blue polo shirt and held it up. "Do you like this?"

"What am I sixty?"

"No," she replied, obviously not getting the joke.

"It's too old for me Bones," he clarified.

"Okay…" she went to another rack. "What about this?" It was still a polo shirt but had small blue, yellow and green stripes. Much hipper.

"That is something I would wear," he said taking it and holding up for his own inspection. "What do you think?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," she pointed out.

"Of course it does. I want your opinion."

"Why?"

He sighed. How should he explain this? "Okay. Socially, I guess that's the term I should use, when men and women shop together the man - me - would want a woman's opinion - you." It was very ' me Tarzan, you Jane.'

"I still don't understand why you would want my opinion. They are not my clothes. You should like what you wear."

"But I want you to like what I wear," he reasoned.

"Fine. I think that shirt is hideous."

He looked at it again. "You do?"

"Yes. It's juvenile and the stripes make my eyes cross."

"Then why did you hold it up for me?" he asked putting it back.

"I thought you might like it," she replied with a shrug.

"So you thought I might want to wear something that makes you cross-eyed. I see you have high expectations of my wardrobe."

"Booth this is just as confusing to me as it is to you. I really don't care what you wear."

He pointed to the rejected striped shirt. "As long as it's not that."

"Yes."

"Fine." He looked around, scanning the racks for something that might appeal to the both of them.

_How was he supposed to explain clothes to her? A guy bought clothes to impress either A: the woman he was with or B: a woman he was trying to get with. Since he had already made up his mind she was the only woman he was ever going to be with, now or ever, how did he break it to her he wanted to look sexy to her in the clothes he bought? _

"You don't see anything?" she asked.

"I like this." He held up a navy blue t-shirt with a pocket on the breast.

She took it in her hands, feeling the height and softness of the fabric. He waited her final judgment.

"It's soft. Plus the material is heavy so it will wash nicely." She looked at the printed tag inside. "One hundred percent cotton, you'll need a bigger size." She slung the right size over her shoulder. "Oh look, green." She held it up to him much like his mother would have done to him in the third grade. "That's unflattering to your skin tone." She tossed it back and grabbed a soft baby blue. "I like that." And put it with the other one on her shoulder.

"I like it too," he said. He smiled at the fact she hadn't asked but just put it in the 'yes' pile.

"How do you feel about khaki?"

_A/N: Thank you to all the great reviews and kind words I've received so far on this story. I'm sorry I haven't replied to them yet but I am working on it. If you have any ideas you would like to see let me know and I'll see what I can do. _


	4. Chapter 4

"Pink?" Booth questioned. "No. No way Bones. I just can't be any sort of man and wear a pink colored shirt."

"Technically, it's salmon," she corrected holding it closer to see the color difference.

"Which is a fancy word for pink." He shoved the shirt away with a grunt. "No. Moving on."

"Fine. But I happened to think it was very masculine." She placed the shirt at the end of the rack and moved further down the aisle.

"Yeah, about as masculine as a grapefruit peeler," he muttered sarcastically.

.

.

"So shoes next?" she asked biting the end off her pretzel stick before dipping it again into the small tub of warm cheese.

"I guess so," Booth sighed tearing his own pretzel in half. "I gotta say Bones, I didn't think you could shop like Angela but you've proven me wrong."

"Angela taught me well," she smirked.

"Yeah, tell that to Jack's Visa bill. I can't believe we bought so much. I don't even think I owned that much stuff to begin with."

"We could have bought less if you had not insisted on purchasing those ridiculous robot shirts." She blocked his pretzel with her own from the cheese tub.

"They're called Transformers Bones. And they are cool. Buying three is not ridiculous. Besides that I bought everything else you told me to."

"Not the salmon shirt," she pointed out.

"What did I say about pink?"

"It would look very handsome on you."

"_No_."

"Fine."

She dipped and chewed again and Booth could tell something was on her mind. This wasn't unusual for her; she always looked like she had something to say.

"Something you want to talk about Bones?" he asked her.

"Hm?" She pulled her brows apart quickly, trying to hide her thoughts from being expressed on her face. "I was thinking that this afternoon when we purchase you a new cell phone instead of creating a whole new account we should simply put you on mine. It would financially beneficial for both of us." She slid the remained of the cheese dip and her pretzel in front of him. "Do you want the rest of this?"

"You want us to share a phone plan?" Was it just him or was that so domestic it tasted sugary sweet?

"What do you think?"

"Well for one thing my old contract isn't up so I'd have to pay the disconnect fee which is really high."

"Did you have insurance on your phone?"

He snorted. "That insurance is for suckers Bones. No one actually uses it and it's a total rip off, like car rental insurance."

She clasped her hands in front of her and looked thoughtful. "So if you stay with your current carrier you're going to have to buy a phone out of pocket correct?"

He shoved a bite of cheese gooped pretzel in his mouth. "Yup."

"Or, we could pay to rid you of that contract, sign you up on mine and receive a new phone free of charge. Do you know how long you had left in your contract?"

He shrugged. "A few months, a year, a lifetime, who knows?"

"Well we'll just see about it when we get there." She rooted around her purse for her phone, pulling it out and holding it up for him to admire. "See? We could have matching phones."

"Sure Bones," he replied with an eye roll. "If you don't have an iPhone, you don't have an iPhone."

"Precisely."

.

.

Was it clothes that made the man, Booth pondered, or in this case, the clothes the _woman_ was picking out making the man. He wouldn't lie and say he didn't make a damn good salary for his hours put in at the Bureau but Bones…well her pennies shined just a little brighter than his.

"I think we should take them," she finally concluded looking at the pile of shoes in front of them scattered across the floor.

"Take what? Which ones?" he asked slipping the shoes he came in with back on his feet.

Duh. "All of them."

He scanned the floor counting at least ten different branded boxes around them. "I don't need ten pairs of shoes, Bones. I don't think I've ever owned ten pairs of shoes at one time my entire life."

"Booth you need all of them," she reasoned. "Work. Exercise. Casual. Sandals."

"Okay maybe, but these?" He held up what he could only call a boat shoe. When was the last time he was ever on a boat? The last boat he even saw was Sully's and he would have given the man these shoes had it made him leave any faster.

"I like them. It matches several of the outfits we bought earlier." She smiled examining them again. "You don't like them?"

"They're alright I guess," he replied with a shrug. "Although I'm not hip on owning outfits."

"Why not?"

"Because my name isn't Ken." He began placing corresponding shoes in their respective boxes.

"That makes no sense. And if you don't like them then don't buy them." She helped him stack the boxes. "But you're going to need several pairs." A pair of Italian sling backs caught her attention as she passed by them. "Oh look at these."

"I don't think they have those in my size." He pried them from her hand. "We're not here to perpetuate your shoe shopping problem, we're here to correct my problem of my shoes are now crispy." He placed the shoe back on the plastic holder. "Now move along."

"Good bye," she said sadly waving as they moved to the check out.

"They'll miss you too."

"Booth you never let me have anything nice," she huffed flopping her Visa on the counter.

.

It was just before dark before they returned back to the apartment, bags in toe and both exhausted from the full day of shopping.

"Let's just order in tonight Booth," Brennan told him dropping her armful of bags on the couch them falling next to them. "Oh it feels good to sit down. I'm too tired to cook."

"Fine by me," Booth replied. "What do you feel like?" He placed the new pair of shoes he wore home by the door and went to pull a couple beers from the fridge for them.

"Exhausted." She popped the top on her beer and turned it to her lips, the cold liquid settling in her belly and cooling her off effectively.

"Not physically," he chuckled. "Although I'm that too. But I meant was what do you feel like for dinner?"

She pulled the elastic from her hair and let her hair fan out behind her. "My scalp hurts. And I don't care about dinner, as long as it's hot and I don't have to prepare it."

"Chinese it is," he decided.

"I'm too tired to act surprised."

"Awh Bones, did I shop you out?" he teased putting her bags from the couch to the floor and pulling her feet into his lap.

"Oh Booth you know just what I need," she purred as his thumbs dug into the arch of her foot. "I didn't realize how much a person really owns until you have to replace it all." She giggled softly as his finger hit a particular spot on her foot. "Are you pleased with all your purchases?"

He shrugged. "I guess. At a certain point you don't really care anymore and it all just blurs together."

"I'm sorry Booth…ooohh down a little…right there. Awh." She closed her eyes and snuggled into the couch. "I would have had you move in months ago if I had known you could massage feet like this…and, you know, not had Hannah."

Booth laughed hard enough tears began to form. "If I had known that was all it took…"

"What can I say, I'm easy." Her eyes flew open as she heard what she said. "Not in the sense that I'm sexually irresponsible," she corrected quickly.

"I know what you meant Bones," he assured her.

.

"So…" she began a few quiet moments later," I was thinking maybe we should make some rules."

Booth stopped thinking about trying to send his chinese order in telepathically and turned his attention to his partner. "What kind of rules?"

"House rules," she answered simply.

"Like don't drink out of the carton?" he asked.

"Do you do that? Booth that is highly unsanitary. The germs spread-"

"-I get your point," he interrupted," so what kind of rules?"

"Things such as…don't leave your socks all over the floor…you had a habit of that at your old apartment."

"Well it was my apartment and I liked having socks everywhere. Next."

"Fine. Considering we are both grown adults we might feel, every once in a while, the need to be alone and we don't want the other one to just walk in the bedroom." She avoided eye contact with him through her little speech.

"Bones," he laughed," are you talking about what I think you're talking about?"

"I'm talking about my need to write here at home and I need quiet and space to do that."

"Uh huh," he said skeptically. "Sure. Perhaps we should devise a system where if one of us might need 'alone time' the other will know and not disturb the other one."

"Such as?"

"Well in college we hung a sock on the door."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Then what do you purpose Bones?"

"Well I can't think of anything now."

"Then why did you bring it up?"

"I don't know…I just thought of it I guess." Again with the avoided eye to eye.

"So you where thinking about alone time when I was sitting next to you rubbing your feet?"

"Is there something wrong with that?"

"Nope Bones, nothing wrong with that at all."

.

Booth tossed several clothing tags into the trash can next to the washer. Brennan insisted in showing him the specifics of her washer - like he was an idiot and couldn't figure out the hot and cold button - and helping him load it properly. They had purchased everything he would need for the summer and then some.

"That's going to bleed the first time so was that with the darker shirts," Brennan instructed pointing to a pile started on her laundry room floor.

"You know Bones," he said casually," I've been doing my own laundry for over two decades now and I'm pretty sure no one's died yet. So if you had something else to do, I would understand."

"I don't have anything else to do," she answered unfazed by his subtle hint.

"Fine," he sighed. "You really can be a smother mother sometimes." He measured the fabric softener into the plastic ball and dropped it into the washer.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means," he gently yanked his new clothes from her hands as she tried to sort them," you don't have to watch me like I'm going to burn the place down." He cringed after the sentence left his mouth. "That was a horrible choice of words."

"I don't think you're going to 'burn the place down', she repeated. "You just don't have a first hand knowledge of these appliances like I do."

"And what have I been doing Bones, banging my clothes on a rock?" He yanked -not so kindly this this time- another armload from her.

"I, damn it you can't put those together-"

"-watch me!"

"I just naturally assumed Hannah was doing all your laundry," she said quickly rescuing a group of white athletic socks from a pair navy blue boxer shorts. "These bleed Booth!"

"Maybe I want them that way, ever thought of that? And why would Hannah be doing my laundry? She wasn't a paid servant."

"Yes she was paid in dick, I'm aware," she answered bluntly shutting the lid with a hard slam.

"Jesus Christ Bones, what is wrong with you? And since when do you say the word dick?"

"I say a lot of things when you aren't around Booth." And with that she marched from the laundry room leaving him with a slamming of the bedroom door.

"This place should really come with a mental defective warning label," he muttered.

Brennan sat on her bed contemplating her conversation with Booth. She couldn't believe she just said dick to him. Dick. Why the hell was that even in her mind? Oh yes, maybe it was the fact she hadn't had any of that in quite a while. Or the fact that that _dick _was supposed to be hers after she would have confessed her heart to him at the coffee cart.

"Good grief Tempe," she told herself," it's been over a year, get over it already." She got up and looked at herself in the mirror over her dresser.

"This anger isn't doing anything for your complexion." She sighed trying to let some of irrational thoughts leave her body with the expelled carbon monoxide. Slowly, she pulled open the top drawer and looked at Jasper and Brainy Smurf sitting among her under things and panty hose. In her attempts to de-Booth her apartment she found not even through tears and angry words could she throw the two figurines out. They meant just too much to her. And even though she was angry, and hurt, and disappointed once again in herself, they had been given to her with what she knew now as love.

.

.

All his new laundry done later Booth tapped on her door quietly with his knuckles before he stuck his head inside the crack. " Bones?"

She was asleep, covered by a throw on top of the covers. Booth laughed at how a grown woman in her thirties could be compared to a three year old without an afternoon nap. Yeah, a nap would do her some good.

He was just about to close the door again when she shifted in her sleep, poking her legs out from under the blanket. So she hadn't gotten rid of everything. Temperance Brennan was sleeping in a pair of his socks.


	5. Chapter 5

The digital readout on her alarm clock alerted her she had slept much longer than she had intended. She hadn't even remembered falling asleep, just thinking she would rest her eyes for a second. After a quick bathroom break and a wardrobe check she went out to find her partner. He was in the living room watching some TV and enjoying the second half of his grilled cheese sandwich.

"Hey Bones," he greeted her. "I was beginning to worry you were hibernating in there."

She helped herself to a now cooled sandwich from a platter near the stove. The man had a knack for making the perfect grilled cheese.

"I'm not sure if you're insulting my weight or saying I sleep too much." Dropping unceremoniously into the arm chair she picked off a hunk of sandwich and tossed it into her mouth.

"Let's go with option…neither of those. How'd you sleep?"

"Well. I suppose I needed the rest."

"Nothing wrong with a little siesta in the middle of the afternoon. I do it quite often during long football games."

She snorted a laugh. "So what have you been doing while I was _siesta-ing_?"

"Well, I saw Scooby and the gang, along with the Harlem Globetrotters, save the day from a mystery ghost."

"Who?"

"Scooby-Doo."

"I don't know him."

Sometimes he couldn't believe she really was a doctor. "Never mind. Other than watching the TV and whipping up culinary delights, I've been giving your rule idea some thought."

"Booth, before that-"

"-No," he interrupted with a raised hand. "While I was shocked you said it, I get it. There's a lot of shit between us right now that needs dealt with and being here, living together, this unforced forced closeness…I just, I get it."

She smiled weakly. "I should probably still say I'm sorry."

"Nah. Let's just forget it okay?" He patted the seat next to him on the couch and she slid off the arm to fill the space.

"So I've been thinking about these rules…" he started.

"Hmm, really? I'm surprised."

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Sorry, go on. So what have you come up with?"

"Besides your 'alone time' thing, which by the way now that I've had some time to think about it is a great idea, I was thinking maybe we should discuss some…boundary issues."

"I don't follow." She wiped the last of her crumbs onto her pants. "Give me an example."

"Okay. For starters, do you plan on bringing men home?"

He watched her face jerk back in surprise at his question. It really was only fair. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to live under the same roof as her if she planned on bringing back some schmuck to fulfill her womanly needs.

"I guess I hadn't really thought about it," she admitted. "I'm not seeing anyone currently…are you asking because you want to bring women here?" He responded instantly with a definite no way.

"I was also thinking about clothing…" he picked at a microscopic piece of lint on her sofa.

"What about it?"

"I think there should be a minimum," he explained. "That way there isn't any…confusion about things."

"You're speaking so vaguely Booth." He could tell today wasn't one of those days she was choosing to understand his line of thought and he was going to have to spell everything out in detail for her.

"Are you saying we should keep it at a _minimal_ or have a _minimum_?" she continued. "Because in that case-"

"Minimum Bones. Minimum. You can't go walking around here in your bra and underwear." There he said it. Having to live with her was one thing, but seeing her everyday in her smoking hot body compiled by little to no clothing…it would kill him…or give him way too much 'alone time.'

"Or t-shirts and that girly, lacy…worded whatever it is."

"…girly…oh you mean…the cheeky panties. Yes I guess those are a bit over the top. Why do manufacturers put words on them?"

Booth let his head hit the back of the couch in a ditch effort to keep it from rolling off his neck and onto the floor. "Bones," he groaned," it's not the words." _BOY TOY. _

"It's not?"

"No. It's the fact that they aren't appropriate to be wearing in front of a house guest."

"But this is my house."

"I know that, but I am a guest here and me seeing you in them isn't appropriate."

"Were they too small? Angela said that was the way they were intended to fit but I wasn't sure. I have another pair-"

"Bones!" He stopped her with a hand clamped over her mouth to stop whatever sexy saying was about to pop from it. "The size is fine. It's your ass in them that bothers me."

His hand dropped from her mouth and onto the couch next to hers.

"I think I understand," she said quietly. She couldn't hide the blush that rose from her neck to her cheeks and caused a smile to blossom on her lips.

"Good, 'cause anymore explaining and I was going to have to go hang a sock on my door."

She laughed at his obvious discomfort. "I'm sorry." Then gripped his hand. "I'll make sure I'm fully clothed from now on." Giving it a little squeeze," even when it's the middle of the night and house guests are presumed asleep."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically, catching her drift.

"You're welcome. So now that my minimums are set we should talk about yours."

"Mine?" he laughed. "Oh sure." He cleared his throat officially and raised his right hand. "I swear to never wear girly underwear in front of behind closed doors. Feel better now?"

"Ha ha," she laughed dryly. "I was thinking more along the lines of your keeping your shirts on."

"Shirts?" He looked inside the t-shirt he was wearing through the neck hole down to his chest. "I don't have man boobs Bones, never have."

"Precisely. And even more precisely, all humans - men and women - have mammary glands. Your chest is much defined and…nice looking…so if I have to wear full coverage of my body, so do you."

"Oh I get it," he chuckled smugly. "You can't help but eye my chest huh?"

"Yes Booth, it turns me on so badly I can't breathe."

"Really?" His smiled was going to break his face if he kept it that way much longer.

"No, not really. It just pisses me off you were never that muscular _before _Hannah."

His face fell, but only slightly. "Hannah was indirect of this Bones. This," he swept a finger over his chest," is from nearly a year in the desert with nothing to do but work out and shoot at things. Believe it or not this wasn't for anyone."

She shrugged one shoulder and "hmpt."

"You've been working out too Bones. I noticed it the moment I saw you again. You've put on some muscle in your arms and legs." He pointed to her stomach. "Let's see those abs."

"No, get away," she giggled as he went for the hem of her shirt. "I won't show you anything."

"Oh come on," he pressed. "You chicken?"

"Not chicken, Booth." She hated being called a coward in any facet. "See?"

Her shirt raised gave him an excellent view of the taught, tan stomach she held captive under all her clothes.

"Good grief Bones, you're on your way to a six pack. You look better than me. Damn girl." He poked the hard muscle. "What's your secret?"

"Maluku diet consisting of what Parker might call 'bugs on a stick'."

"Oh gross," he laughed. "Well whatever it was, you look great. I also like the fact you've got some color now. Even after nearly a year you still look tan."

"Thanks," she said softly. Being at the receiving end of compliments wasn't really a strong suit of hers. "You…you look good too."

"Awh Bones, you're going to turn me into a pile of goo," he purred at her.

"That's scientifically impossible Booth."

"Not everything is scientific Bones," he replied with a wink.

Booth readjusted himself on the couch and Brennan noticed the stiffness to his frame and face. He had just been laughing, even winking at her, so what caused the large shift so quickly? He interrupted her as soon as she opened her mouth to ask him.

"The fire marshal called while you were asleep." He picked at a cuticle on his left thumb.

"What did he say? Can you can go back to your apartment?" It wasn't an invitation to leave, quite the opposite in fact, but she knew he would want to try to salvage what he could of his belongings.

"Back, no." He shook his head. "And _he_ is a she. Fire Marshallette I suppose. I didn't know women could be fire marshals, did you?"

"Yes Booth, and we can vote now too and wear shorts," she answered playfully.

"Oh har har," he laughed tweaking her nose. "You know what I meant. She said the building was a total loss but some of the bottom apartments were untouched so most of their stuff was okay."

She felt he was holding back. "Was there anything else?"

"She said I could come back, look for stuff. As long as it fit in a cardboard box, I can keep it." He sighed rubbing his hands on his shorts. "My life consists on what fits into a cardboard box."

"Better than a black trash bag," she remarked quickly. "At least with a box it won't rip and your underwear follows behind you down the sidewalk."

"That's true," he laughed softly. "We're a pretty sad bunch, Bones. You'll help me tomorrow right? I don't know if I can dig through all that shit alone."

"Of course. I'll make us a big breakfast, you can go to church, and then we can go."

"As dread full as it's going to be, that sounds like a really nice plan." He grabbed her hand and squeezed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, we haven't found anything."

"That doesn't matter; nearly all of it can be replaced. Just having you there to help me means a lot."

.

.

True to her word when Booth stepped out of the spare bedroom the next morning he was greeted by a large breakfast spread of eggs, French toast, bacon and orange juice. She was seated with her back to him at the table helping herself from the large stack next to her then dousing it in maple syrup.

"That's going to give you some major cavities," he teased taking the seat at the head of the table, and next to her. "Man this smells good." He helped himself to the spread. "When did you buy bacon?" He took a big bite and hummed in his throat. "I could live on this stuff."

"Not for long you wouldn't," she observed. "Bacon isn't good for you."

"Bones, let me get philosophical for a second, anything God made taste this good," he pointed to the bacon in his fingers," is always good for you. He wants us to be happy."

"And bacon makes you happy?"

"Damn straight it does."

They parted ways after breakfast and agreed go to the apartment after Booth returned from church and have lunch.

Brennan found herself uneasy about returning back to her partner's now charred apartment. She wasn't receptive to people's needs the way Angela was and was unsure how to deal with what was surely going to be an emotionally heavy time. 'Hannah would have been better' she told herself, embarrassed that it was true. Hannah had been the epitome of everything she not been. Blonde, friendly, socially outgoing, and by the way she saw the woman grab his ass several times, sexually confident. All the things, that if she admitted to herself, she wished she could be. Except blonde, she really hated blondes.

.

Booth found solace and respite in the pastor's sermon. Being in church always put his mind and soul at ease, but this morning it was especially comforting. The sermon was on new beginnings -couldn't be more appropriate if God picked it out himself - and turning out past lives and welcoming new and wonderful gifts from God. The words gave Booth pause. A whole new door was opening up for him. A door he hoped Temperance Brennan was either behind or there to walk through with him. Glancing at his watch he realized he'd been gone just over an hour and was already missing her face.

Once the sermon was over he took a dollar from his wallet and placed it in the small offering can next to the rows of candles at the front of the church. He wasn't feeling completely blessed these days and he just needed a sign that things were going to be alright. A few hail Marys and Our Fathers and he was feeling refreshed and renewed and was out the door.

.

"Bones?" He dropped his keys and wallet on the table by the door. "Bones you home?" The soft muffle of a radio was coming from the back of the apartment.

"Oh Bones," he sang, "where are you?"

He found her singing _Best of My Love_ with her arms full of clean towels fresh from the dryer.

"Hey Bones!" he greeted her back as she headed to her bedroom.

"Ayyhh! Holy shit Booth! Where did you come from?" Her heart rate, as well as her towels, was in a heap at her feet.

"I just got back from church," he told her helping put the linens back in her arms. "Let me help."

"That explains the Jesus smell."

"Jesus doesn't smell Bones." He jabbed a hand towel under her chin.

"He only bathed once a week Booth, of course he smelled." She waved a hand for him to follow her into the bedroom.

He snorted at her awesomely lame but killer Bones joke as he followed her. Her bedroom had never been off limits per se before; he just hadn't the need to go in there very often. He stopped beside her at the bed and began folding in step with her.

"So church was good?" she asked casually as she guided his hand to the correct fold.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "it was good." He watched the ease she used gliding her hands over his. "Um, how was your day?"

"Laundry, so I've been productive. I also paid my bills, ate a sandwich and considered purchasing a set of hot rollers online but decided against it."

"Hot rollers? For your hair?" He handed her the stack of newly folded towels. "I thought your hair was naturally curly?"

"What I pass off as naturally curly is actually a frighteningly scary case of what Angela calls the frizzies tamed by a high heat curling iron."

He watched her step on her tippy toes putting the towels on an upper shelf fighting the urge for his eyes to scope out her ass. Didn't he just talk to God about that?

"Well you pass them off gloriously," he teased with a wink. "So what are our plans for today?" He stretched his arms above his head with a long yawn. "I feel a heavy lunch with a long nap coming on." Patting his belly he eyed the kitchen. "What's for lunch?"

Smiling flirtatiously and patting his cheek," whatever you fix yourself. Then we need to go over to your apartment and try to salvage some things."

He grimaced. "Can't that wait?"

"For what Booth? If we wait any longer it will all be swept away with bulldozers."

"I know," he sighed, leading the way to the kitchen then v-ing to the fridge. He contemplated several meal options.

"What's bothering you Booth?" Brennan asked sympathetically.

"You have no mustard."

"That's what's bothering you? Mustard…or lack there of?" She pushed back from the stool she had been perched on. "I think I have some in the pantry." He listened to her root around then come back holding out his favorite brand.

"I'm surprised you didn't throw this out with the rest of my things," he half-teased. Popping the seal he squirted a heavy dose onto two slices of bread and rubbed it around to cover each surface.

"That's disgusting," she laughed watching him. "And I didn't throw everything out of yours; I kept a few things. I just got rid of things that confused me." She crinkled her nose at the even heavier dose of turkey breast lunch meat he put on the bread after peeling it apart.

"I need a tomato for this; you got one?"

She pointed at the fridge," tomato keeper."

"Oh," he laughed," duh. So what stuff confused you? I guess I don't follow that line of reasoning." The socks she had so confidently hidden leapt to the forefront of his mind.

She shrugged, mostly from embarrassment of the question, as she retook her seat. "Things, mementos, you gave me at times when we were incredibly close."

He dropped his shoulders. "You threw out Brainy Smurf?"

"Of course not! Jasper either."

"Okay, then what are you talking about? Creepy stuff like toenail clippings?"

"That's even more disgusting then that flesh sandwich."

"It's delicious, you want a bite?" He offered it under her nose.

"You want that crammed down your throat?" she asked shoving it back at him. "Just stuff Booth."

"So it is toe nail clippings; gross Bones!"

"Would you shut-up with that? It was things like your t-shirts you gave me when I stayed the night after falling asleep on your couch, or little notes you left me on my desk. Origami giraffes and 800 ketchup packets you insisted I kept because we might need then one day. Who needs that much ketchup? Ties I bought for you but never got around to giving you…just stuff."

He nodded in understanding. "Socks too."

"What?"

"Nothing," he recanted. "I had a few of those things too Bones."

"Really?"

"Of course. We worked together a long time."

"But we were friends too," she said, her voice not quite convinced.

He grabbed her hand. "The best Bones. You know Hannah found four pairs of your shoes and three tubes of lipstick. She asked me if I had hookers over on my lunch hour. It was hard for her to wrap her mind around the fact all those things were yours and we were never…involved."

"Well we spent a long of time together."

He took another large bite and chewed as he nodded in agreement.

"Was she mad?"

He shook his head. "No mad, disbelieving at first."

"Why?"

He smirked. "I knew all the shades."

"Of lipstick? Really?"

"I'd been looking at it on my coffee cups for nearly a decade Bones, of course I knew." He watched her face pale slightly. "Didn't think I knew you constantly drank after me? FBI Bones, nothing gets passed me."


	6. Chapter 6

Booth didn't know what to do or where to start. The fire had taken out nearly the whole building it seemed. The area surrounding the once high rise apartment complex was still roped with crime tape and what was left of his life lay in crumbles and pieces around them on the pavement.

"This is very overwhelming," Brennan told him honestly as they stood together taking in the scene.

"You're telling' me," he sighed running a heavy hand over his face and hair. "I don't even know where to start. My apartment was over there," he chose a direction with his finger and pointed," I think."

"I thought it was more," she moved his finger five feet west," there."

"See? Twelve years I lived here and I don't know where the place is."

"Booth cut you some rope," she said softly patting his back.

"That's exactly what I want to cut myself," he laughed. "Oh Bones, is this totally pointless?"

"Of course not. We'll try to find your badge, our gun perhaps, maybe even some of your belongings. Have faith." She stepped lightly over debris and began to wind her way through the rubble.

.

"What's this?" she asked him holding it out to show him.

"Let me see." He pulled his t-shirt up from his waist and wiped his brow. "That's a…can opener."

"Would you like to keep it?"

"Do you not own a can opener?"

"Of course I do."

"Then I think we can safely throw away the melted one."

Brennan casually tossed away the now melted, one handled can opener. "You know, if I didn't ask you, you'd have my head."

"Yeah on stuff like pictures of Parker, but not a damn can opener!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" she shot back, tossing her limp ponytail over her shoulder. "I'm only trying to help!"

Booth took a deep breath, clenching his fists. "I'm not yelling at you."

"Well your sentence sure sounded exclamatory."

"Well why would I want a non-working can opener?"

"I thought you might want it, sorry. At least I didn't ask you about this?" She thrust a charred wooden spoon, now bent at a ninety degree angle into his face.

"Bones-" He yanked the spoon from her hand and chucked it into the distance.

"What the hell was that?"

"Just will you look for something meaningful and not the crappy remnants of a crappy life?" He turned back to his digging and began angrily tossing stuff aside.

"Hey." She grabbed his shoulder and made him turn to face her. "Who said you have a crappy life?"

Booth laughed almost bitterly.

"Booth talk to me." She caught his eyes and smiled softly. "Don't make me call Sweets."

"Do and die," he said with a half smile.

"You really think your life was crappy?" Ironically his kitchen table was still intact and she patted a spot for him to sit next to her.

"I don't think my life is crappy."

"You don't sound very convinced to me." She took his hand and held it between hers.

"I'm just frustrated with the situation. We've been working for an hour now and all we've found is kitchen crap."

"Booth, we've only been here an hour and your stuff is ankle deep. I'm surprised we've found anything that belonged to you. What, in particular, are you trying to find?"

"I'm trying to find something to connect me to my old life; to prove I was here. It sounds totally stupid to you I know, but to me, I need this."

"It doesn't sound totally stupid, I understand. We'll keep looking. I'm sure with enough work we'll find what you need to feel better about all this. But these things don't make your life; you taught me that. They are only part of your life."

"Yeah I know. I guess I just get down sometimes about this whole thing. It makes you feel helpless, you know?"

This was one of those offer a little of yourself moments.

"I was so scared when my parents left."

"Of course you were Bones, that's probably the scariest thing that can happen to a kid."

"No. I was scared when my parents left. I was petrified when Russ left. I questioned myself over and over, what had I done to deserve this. I think you're asking yourself the same question. Booth you didn't do anything to deserve this, or bring it on, or sin one too many times. Things like this, this fire, they happen. Even to the best people. When horrible things happen to children we don't ask them what they did to deserve it, why are you doing it now as an adult?"

Booth nodded solemnly.

"Do you feel like you did something to warrant your home being burned down?"

He laughed a little. "Not really. It's not that. It just makes you stop and think. I've proposed to two women, one of them being pregnant, and both of them turned me down. I profess my love for you, you turn me down. Now my house burns down. It just…fits."

"Well you need to look at those situations in context. When you proposed to Rebecca, while she was pregnant, you both were very young and you had a gambling problem. It ended up being a good thing she said no, right?"

"Yeah I guess. Sometimes I want to knock her head off; I don't think that would go over too hot."

"Probably not. Then, going in order not necessarily levels of…awfulness, there's myself. When you told me that as the last thing I expected to hear from you. You just said it like…I want a cheese sandwich. There wasn't love in your voice."

"Seriously? Outside, just the two of us, the sounds of the city around us. How is that not romantic?"

"What I remember is about fifteen minutes before that."

Booth shook his head clearly not remembering what she was referring to.

"We were talking to Sweets."

"Yeah I remember that."

"Obviously you don't remember anything else. You were pissy about Sweets asking you about Jared and Padme. You were belching up those disgusting bean burritos you eat when you have no time for a real lunch and you had sweat through your suit and smelled like a gym sock. And those sounds of the city you're referring to, those are called garbage trucks. Alone? Not really, two drug addicts were not ten yards from us. So it wasn't some grand gesture of affection like you think it was."

"Oh…I really stunk?"

"That's what you heard?"

"No, I heard everything. Wow. Our versions really vary huh?"

"Booth, and I know this sounds bad, but when you finally told me you loved me I thought it would be this thing you know? Dinner out, back to one of ours, wine, and then afterward really great sex. I didn't get any of those things."

"Yeah Bones I know…wait, _finally_? Why do you say finally?"

"I've known for a long time," she admitted. "Hank let it slip during on of our visits. He made me swear to not say anything to you until the time was right; your time. Then when we went out separate ways last year I thought all of that was over."

"Bones you seriously knew and you didn't say anything?"

"Well…yeah."

"Well you sure played it off well," he replied sarcastically. "You knew for months that I was in love with you but you kept on as if that information wasn't pertinent? How could you?"

"How could I? How could you? Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Oh I don't know; let's see Guatemala, Rio, Africa, any other places you jetted off to?"

"What's that mean?"

"You run Bones. If I had told you I loved you then you would have high-tailed it out of here so fast your underwear would have caught fire."

"You don't know that! Maybe I would've stayed."

"Please," he snorted. "No way." He turned his back to her and began tossing through singed clothing from his once front closet.

"Hey don't turn your back to me!" She picked up the closest thing, which happened to be a melted shoe, and chucked it at the back of his head with deadly accuracy.

"Ouch damn it!" He rubbed the back of his neck. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm not done talking about this."

"What's there to talk to about? You know I love you so what's left?"

"You ever think I might love you too you dumb-ass?"

He dropped the broken lamp shade in his hand. "You what?"

"Well this isn't the most opportune time or setting but yes, I love you."

He looked around as if he were on candid camera. "Are you kidding me right now?"

"Why would I be telling jokes?"

"Bones this really isn't funny. I'm standing here in a pile of shit. Please tell me you aren't kidding."

"Booth I'm not kidding."

So it wasn't a fairy tale or dinner out, back to one of theirs, wine then great sex. It was two people, standing in a pile of rubble, confessing their love for one another. And the only thing he could do was kiss her.

_So I know this feels like then end but it isn't, there are a couple more chapters to really wrap this story up. I want to thank everyone for all the reviews, Pms and all the great words of encouragement when it came to this story. You guys are great. After this one is done watch for another little diddy I'm working on. _


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